


Souls that Dream Alone Lie Awake

by Wei (wei_jiangling)



Category: Nectar - Joji (Music Videos)
Genre: Aliens, Gen, Government Conspiracy, Impending Apocalypse, intentionally kind of cryptic, questionable protag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28125039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wei_jiangling/pseuds/Wei
Summary: Dr. Wallace begins his trip into the unknown and reflects on what got him there.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Souls that Dream Alone Lie Awake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mere_Mortifer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mere_Mortifer/gifts).



> First off, I want to thank you for this prompt. Before I picked it up as a pinch hit, I had never even heard of Joji, much less seen these music videos. It's definitely been an interesting world to play around in. In this fic, I suspect I've created more questions than I've answered, but that's probably par for the course. I hope you enjoy!

Dr. Wallace had never expected to be famous. In his more arrogant moments, he would have admitted to being certain that some kind of scientific commendation would eventually be his due, maybe even a Nobel Prize eventually. He was dedicated to his craft, he did good work, and he knew it. But the type of attention that put headlines on things some average person could grab from a stand at a supermarket? He had never expected that.

In fairness, maybe "famous" was the wrong word. He was rarely mentioned by name, and it was questionable tabloids, rather than legitimate newspapers, that had found a way to make it a pet subject. "U.N. Team Working on a Way to Cross the Galaxy" appeared alongside "Is There a Secret Meaning to Joji's New Music Videos?" as if these were in any way the same caliber of news. And yet, they kept it up, commenting on everything from the work itself to the interpersonal drama of the team assigned to it. They'd even gotten out one surprisingly accurate "Secret Space Project a Danger to Us All?!" though it had been accompanied by the most ludicrous and obviously photoshopped image of some mutant person with extra limbs he'd ever seen.

Despite the overdramatization and sometimes strange guesses at specifics, though, they had the core of everything right. He'd wondered on multiple occasions who the mole was that had fed the occasional top secret detail to something as nonsensical as the Weekly Enquirer. Maybe they had leaked it to multiple sources, and it was only the ridiculous ones who were willing to publish it. Whatever the case, he'd been entertained enough by the articles to never bring up the security risk to his superiors, who had in turn either been too ignorant or too likewise amused to ever try to do anything about it. 

Listening to the engines roar to life underneath him, he wondered what those headlines would look like the next day. 

_Dr. Wallace to be Sole Survivor of Cataclysmic Rocket Experiment_

_Dr. Wallace Flips Off Mission Control in Final Farewell to Earth_

_The U.N. Didn't Listen and Now All but One Scientist Face the Consequences_

The press, maybe even the real press this time, was going to have a field day.

\--WAKE UP--

"You are going to kill everyone in this entire city!"

"There's no evidence to back up that claim." 

"Two members of my team are in the hospital and everyone else exposed to the ignition tests is showing symptoms. What more evidence do you need?"

"You seem to be fine."

"I've never been around the material after it's been combusted. Everyone who's gotten sick has. It's obvious-"

"What's obvious is that you're overreacting. We've taken better measures to protect those handling cleanup from the tests, and there's no proof that the launch will affect anyone at a distance."

"There's no proof that it _won't_!"

"This is important work, Dr. Wallace. We can't afford to be distracted by every possibility when we already have safety precautions in place." 

"I'm telling you the launch will disperse the material into the atmosphere. You have no idea how many people that will affect. At least delay the launch so we can test it further, then we can be sure-"

"We can't do that."

"Why? What's so important about keeping the launch on that date?"

"That information is only for people who need to know, Dr. Wallace. You don't need to know."

\--WAKE UP--

It was in moments like this, exhausted from arguing with bureaucrats, reeling from the news of another of his team being carried off to the hospital, staring at an old picture on his desk that he wasn't sure why he still kept there, that he realised he missed her. The woman in the photograph was one he hadn't seen in months by now. 

Sandra had been someone he could talk to, back when his interest in science was an in-progress university degree wrapped up in a healthy dose of wishful thinking. When it had turned into real research, things that required more of his attention and came with the restrictions of a security clearance, she hadn't liked the reality. She said that he was distant, that he'd ceased to care about her and was only interested in his work. Eventually, she'd left.

She had claimed to love him once. Maybe she just had never known him at all. 

He'd left a message on her machine after he had failed to talk anyone into canceling the launch. He'd told her the day the launch would happen. He'd told her to be as far away from the site as possible. He'd made it clear her life was in danger. He had no idea whether she had heard the message or whether she had listened to it. She didn't speak to him anymore, and the last he heard, she thought he was crazy. Just like everyone else, apparently. 

Either way, whether she lived or died after the rocket launched would be up to her and whether she would trust that one last bit of helpful advice. He hoped that she would.

She probably didn't. 

\--PLEASE WAKE UP--

When his eyes opened, he found himself somewhere unfamiliar. The compartment--a better word for the space than "room"--was small, the walls and furniture stark and metallic. Gravity kept him laid down on the sparse bed, but he was lying more lightly than he should. It was artificial. 

This was a spaceship, and not the one he'd left in. He didn't have any memories to explain that. He remembered the launch, laughing his way off of the Earth and leaving whatever destruction his colleagues had roped themselves into behind. He remembered hitting a button on his dashboard. He remembered, distantly, feeling a jolt before he passed out. Somehow, now he was elsewhere. 

More surprising, though, was that he wasn't alone. Someone--some _thing_ \--watched him from a perch on the other side of the compartment. It had a familiar enough body shape. Two arms, two legs, one head up top. It was the latter that gave it away. The face that watched him was unnaturally pale, with dark, sunken eyes. Not human. 

The other occupant of the room seemed to perk up when it noticed him watching back. It spoke into a device strapped to its chin, an entirely unfamiliar tongue, translated a moment later into metallic, processed English.

\--YOU ARE AWAKE--


End file.
